


maybe

by happinessafteryou (ayemendes)



Series: not quite [2]
Category: One Direction (Band), Taylor Swift (Musician)
Genre: F/M, Haylor, Quality Time, haylor friendship? that's all i want tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:42:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28510614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayemendes/pseuds/happinessafteryou
Summary: taylor is lonely. harry receives an unexpected visitor.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Taylor Swift
Series: not quite [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2088429
Kudos: 22





	maybe

**Author's Note:**

> i said this was the second part of "almost" - which i wrote in 2019 - but this is really just something i wrote accidentally while imagining what could've happened after that night. 
> 
> very different vibes in this one :)

LA felt big and extremely lonely sometimes. For someone who was notorious for being friends with everyone in Hollywood, Taylor could swear she didn’t know anyone these days. It being the beginning of summer, all her friends were busy with all kinds of work – work that took them far away from her, and the wide expanse of the city was making her feel rather small lately.

It was mostly okay.

She Facetimed with Joe almost every day while he was filming his new movie in London. It was lovely to prop up her phone and sit with him for a while, as she ate her breakfast and he had his lunch, joking casually, as if they weren’t oceans apart. She missed him and his strong, steady presence next to her. She was almost buzzing with excitement for when she would be in London in a couple of weeks to see him – but for now she was what felt like a world away from her favorite person.

And while she could sometimes hang out with friends when she wasn’t busy working, something was still off. She could talk to her boyfriend during the day, and hang out with her cats most evenings, but she was... bored? Antsy in her own skin and craving excitement and spontaneity like a drug.

She finds out he’s in LA by mistake, obviously. She didn’t make it a habit to keep up with her ex’s movements anymore – it was something that had come with age and being in a happy, long-term relationship. It was too much emotional effort to care anymore.

She was at brunch with Ed at some Instagram-famous café and she’d zoned out momentarily, picking at a loose thread on her shorts. Ed rambled on about the wicked housewarming party of a friend of a friend that he’d been at the previous night, when he’d casually mentioned Harry. The sound of his name alone caused her to jolt to full attention.

“…and it wasn’t even a pool party, yeah? But Jordan and Harry just jumped in the pool fully clothed. Said they were christening it or some shit. Cherry and I ended up in the pool too because everyone at the party was absolutely pissed. Woke up with a proper headache as a reminder of that,” Ed chuckled.

Ed knew that whatever had happened between her and Harry was long over – which it was – and that the two of them were civil towards each other now, and so he hadn’t hesitated to slip that detail into his story, knowing that things wouldn’t get awkward if he mentioned her ex.

Taylor was glad she could hide behind her big sunglasses, because she didn’t need Ed seeing how her eyes had widened when she heard his name. She and Harry had not spoken in a while – almost four months – well since he’d showed up her house in the middle of the night.

And she was still trying to process that whole situation.

Joe had laughed it off then, and had seemingly forgotten about it afterward, but Harry’s arrival at her door had brought back the nagging thoughts she’d had for six years now. Would they keep orbiting around each other like this forever? Was something ever going to give?

Taylor cleared her throat and sipped her water before diverting the subject – and her mind – away from the fact that Harry was in town. She successfully started a conversation about her upcoming trip to London, ignoring how her body was thrumming with some kind of electricity at the new information she’d just learned. She ignored it.

She didn’t do anything about it for three whole days.

When Harry has arrived unannounced at her house, she’d been rightfully angry at him – and now she was about to do the same thing. The hypocrisy wasn’t lost on her as she unlocked her phone.

 _Text to:_ Harry S.

_> Are you home?_

_> It’s Taylor._

She tapped her foot nervously, and a moment later she typed:

_> I’m outside._

At first, she thought he might not be near his phone, or he wasn’t at home – but her breath hitched when she saw the three oscillating dots that meant he was typing something.

All he had texted back was, _“what??”_ and she almost laughed at how ridiculous this whole thing was.

It was late afternoon and she was bored and lonely again. There were tons of her friends or acquaintances she could have called up to do something, but here she was, in a dark Range Rover and huge glasses, parked across the street from her ex-boyfriend’s house. She was a joke, really. And it was a trap that their houses were so close together. It was too easy to just drive or walk over, and the distance was too short for her to convince herself that it was a bad idea.

She was fixing her fingers to type something that might make sense to Harry – but she wasn’t entirely sure why she was there either. She sighed and thought that maybe she should drag herself home instead of doing whatever this was again when – his gate rolled open.

 _Oh_.

She started her car – it urged forward and it crawled into his driveway.

He was leaning nonchalantly against the huge doorframe with his arms crossed when she jumped out of her car. His lips were twisted into a weird shape and she couldn’t fully gauge his facial expression because he had some honey-colored sunglasses over his eyes. They didn’t stop her from checking the rest of him out, though, as she walked towards the door.

He was dressed like he was going somewhere, and she suddenly felt guilty for doing this very inconvenient thing to him. He had on some loose khaki dress pants and a fitted white tee tucked into them. One of his crisp white Nikes was creasing where he was tapping it against the doorframe. He pulled his sunglasses off and ran his fingers though his hair – he was growing it out – or at least the sides of it. It was nice. He looked really nice.

She lifted her eyes so sparkling blue met clear green, and for a moment the both of them just stood on Harry’s porch, taking each other’s presence in.

“Would’ya look at how the tables have turned,” he drawled, suppressing a smirk. “Are you drunk and here to tell me you love me too, Taylor?”

She sort of wished she was in a position tell him those words. She didn’t even feel that way anymore. She didn’t know what it was that she felt. But she didn’t say that. Instead, she smiled at his words. And the way he said her name. Tay-luuh. She definitely had a thing for British accents.

“That would be a bit on the nose don’t you think?” she teased. It was surprising that he was already joking about what had happened the last time they’d seen each other. But this was Harry. He was just like that.

“Hmm, not my finest work,” he breathed and pondered for a moment and then perked up again, making eye contact, “What brings you?”

Taylor averted her eyes and started scuffing her boots on the concrete underfoot, unsure of where to start. The fact that she was at his house unannounced, for basically no reason whatsoever, had finally caught up to her.

“Well, uh,” she faltered, and she heard a snicker come from across her. She looked back up and Harry was smiling.

“Wait don’t tell me you’re _actually_ here to pull a ‘ _Harry, I Still Love You_ ’ on me! I invented that,” he had the biggest grin on his face and she couldn’t help but laugh. He stretched his arm out and invited her to come in. It was like all the months and months of dead quiet between them hadn’t even happened.

“No, of course I’m not here to say that,” she rolled her eyes and slipped into the cool, air-conditioned front room. He closed the door and leaned against a circular table with a vase of roses on it and waited for her to say what she’d actually come to say. This was enough dancing around it.

Taylor took a deep breath and tried to find a place to start. The mess in her head needed sorting through, and it was about time.

“Ed mentioned you were in town – well more than that – but when I heard that, I guess I got this overwhelming urge to... talk to you? I still don’t really _know_ what I’m here to _say_ exactly _,_ but I know we can’t end on the terms we ended on—”

Harry’s smile had faded a little, but it was still there when he cut in and said, “—yeah; your boyfriend looking at me like I was some drunk stalker as you chased me away wasn’t the best way for things to go.”

“He threatened to beat you up, too,” she smiled fondly.

“Oh Christ, Taylor, get out of here. I can’t have him messing up my face before I shoot my Gucci campaign,” he deadpanned, trying to suppress his smile.

Both of them burst out laughing then and it was just like old times. No matter what they’d done to each other before, there was always just that satisfying click they felt when they were together.

Taylor hadn’t been in Harry’s house in years, and while it had changed quite a bit since she’d last been there, the layout was still rather familiar. Harry gestured for her to follow as he led her to the kitchen and pulled out a glass dish of what looked to be brownies and offered her one.

“You baked?”

“Don’t sound so astonished. I know my way around an oven,” he teased and opened the fridge while she stared suspiciously at the brownies. “Would you like something to drink?” he called from across the room.

“Water is fine,” she said distractedly, as he poured them both a glass. “Harry, something looks off with these brownies,” she thought aloud as she sipped her water. He pulled out a spatula and picked one up, sliding it onto a plate in front of her.

“Try it,” he giggled, “Trust me,” he assured her when she gave him a nervous look. She bit into the corner of the brownie.

“Harry! Is that—”

“Spinach. Yep,” he laughed at her face as she chewed, “Not bad huh?”

“You should stick to looking pretty,” she scowled as she strained to swallow.

“Oh, so you think I’m pretty?”

“Shut up,” she laughed and shoved him playfully.

Harry knew Taylor. She’d shown up at his door that afternoon for some comfort, even if it was platonic. They had been very close once, and while time and circumstance had pushed them apart; the connection was still there. Sometimes LA felt really big and it was easy to feel small and alone, especially as a popstar. Harry knew that more than anyone. He knew it wasn’t smart for him to recklessly offer his friendship to her like this when they both knew he was still in love with her, but he couldn’t help it. He wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to spend time with her.

“Speaking of looking pretty,” he began, grabbing the rest of Taylor’s brownie as he propped himself onto the counter, “How’s the album coming along?”

She breathed out slowly and heavily, leaning against the counter and looking up at where he was sitting. “It’s different. I don’t know if people are going to like it. I feel like everyone wants me to make another 1989.”

Harry was quiet for a while, knowing full well the anxiety that came with being a musician trying new things, and digesting that even seasoned veterans like Taylor felt the same way he felt sometimes.

“Well I can understand wanting everyone to like your album,” he began, licking his lips and thinking carefully, “but I trust you so much, musically. I know _I’ll_ like it for sure. You didn’t get where you are by accident. I think you need to trust that what you’ve made is good enough. That’s what I’m trying to do with my own work.”

It was quiet between them as she nodded, and he watched her, deep in her own head, looking like she was wrestling with her thoughts.

“You’re right,” she sighed eventually, boosting herself up onto the counter next to him. She left enough space between them so that their legs wouldn’t be touching.

“I don’t hear that nearly as much as I should,” he thought out loud, and he saw her small smile out of the corner of his eye.

He loved her. He still did. He was in love with the way the setting sun streamed in the window and through her hair. He was in love with how sometimes he could almost see the gears in her head turning as she spoke. He was in love with the freckles that were becoming more visible on her nose and shoulders now that the weather was warmer. He was in love with the way she was leaning back on her hands and looking at him quizzically as he stared at her and counted all the things he loved about her.

Having her there in his space was probably ultimately bad for him and his heart, but he didn’t care about that. He wasn’t strong enough to deny himself this.

Taylor saw him staring at her with that small smile on his face. She wasn’t sure where he stood with her romantically, or if he still felt the same way he’d felt that night he’d been on her porch, and quite frankly, she was too scared to find out. It was easier to ignore the fact that he might be in love with her still.

Her own feelings for him had been buried so deep down under the many, many layers of love she had for Joe, that she wasn’t even going to bother digging them up. The only feeling she cared about right then, was how being with Harry felt warm and familiar. She was comfortable around him and he made it so easy for he to be herself when she was with him. There weren’t too many people she could say that about. With him she didn’t have to be Taylor Swift the popstar, or the brand, or anything like that. She could be dorky and laugh loudly and stumble over her words and just be herself.

“You headed somewhere?” she said after a pause, while they had both been lost in their thoughts.

“Hmm? Why? ‘s it ‘cause I look so cute?” he grinned, showing off his dimples and turning his head sideways, because he knew he was beautiful. Taylor playfully swatted his hand away and looked offended and swatted her back, which meant she had to playfully punch him to end it.

He faked being hurt and rubbed his bicep where she’d hit him before starting, “I had to go get something I’ve been working on from my mate. I have no plans for tonight, though...” he trailed off.

Taylor could tell he was offering to hang out with her, and she was honestly glad that he was so understanding. She didn’t know of many people who would blindly offer their friendship like this to someone who had broken their heart before. Harry was truly one of a kind.

“I mean, I heard that new adaptation of ‘Rebecca’ isn’t half-bad. I was gonna watch it tonight, but the idea of sitting in the dark watching Netflix with my cats is getting a bit sad,” she only half-joked. And because he was a good friend, he laughed along.

It seemed like it was only a moment later that Harry had the popcorn popped, and Taylor had grabbed one of the throw blankets from the arm on the couch and buried herself in it. His heart did a little hiccup when he walked in and she was loading up his Netflix app on the TV. She looked so at ease, cuddled up in the corner of his sofa.

He almost couldn’t believe he was allowing himself to be used for company like this, while her real boyfriend was an ocean away. _Almost_.

They watched the movie – from opposite sides of the loveseat – and Harry couldn’t help but notice how comfy Taylor looks as he stole glances at her, so he grabbed a few cushions and stuffed them behind his back and neck, letting his legs extend a bit as he reclined. He already felt much better. As the movie progressed, Taylor balled up her legs and leaned further into the sofa, stretching her legs out randomly while they watched. By the time the credits were rolling, somehow their legs were intertwined. The blanket she had been using was now also covering him, their body heat effectively shared.

“Jesus, that was something,” Harry breathed, as the credits rolled, and Netflix was asking them if they wanted to watch anything else. He paused the TV.

“I love the book so much,” Taylor sighed, almost to herself, an awestruck smile plastered all over her face. He just looked at her. There was no guarantee of him ever getting to spend intimate moments like this with her in a long time – if ever.

She seemed to remember he was in the room. “How did you like the plot twist?” she turned to face him and tapped his knee to get his attention.

“Uh,” he hummed, chuckling slightly at her excitement to hear his thoughts. “It was mad! Did the husband kill her to put her out of her misery or was he sick of Rebecca d’you think? And the new wife, she was kind of pathetic the whole time, wasn’t she?”

“Exactly! And don’t even get me started on their _marriage_ ,” Taylor huffed and rolled her eyes. Harry giggled and pulled out his phone, ignoring his notifications and opening the UberEats app, intending on ordering them a pizza for dinner.

“She was so into him,” he’d begun, feeling like he was gossiping about someone that they both knew.

“Yes! And she was up and down, trying to fit into his life, doing all these things to impress him and please him and he just put up with her!”

“Her husband just barely tolerated her, it was awful,” they both went back and forth. They’d spent the rest of their night discussing the movie in depth. Harry loved listening to her speak, especially since she, having read the book that the movie was based upon, had a better understanding of the characters.

When their food had arrived, they had set up the pizza box on the coffee table in front of the sofa where they sat with their legs entwined and continued to talk about anything and everything. The time seemed to slip through their fingers as they caught each other up on the interesting and the mundane parts of their current lives. Harry noticed, with relief, that her boyfriend didn’t really come up as they chatted it up about her cats, her new hobby as a painter and his new foray into the fashion world.

There’d been another lull in the conversation. There had been more quiet moments as the night had stretched into the early morning, and the comfortable stillness was lasting longer and longer. After one of these pauses, he looked up at Taylor, and stifled a laugh when he’d realized that she was fast asleep.

Her eyelashes flitted and he watched her unconsciously move her arm so that it was supporting her head, and her curly bangs shifted even more out of the ponytail she’d put them in. He took a moment to just watch her sleep. God, Harry was so in love. He was hopeless.

He knew that he should probably wake her up so that she could go home; or that he should at least offer her one of his guest rooms for the night. Harry ignored all of those thoughts, though, as he tugged the other throw blanket off the back of the couch and covered the both of them, snuggled into the arm of the sofa, and closed his eyes.

Uncharacteristically, it was him who woke up first.

It was still rather dark in his living room, and he was grateful. The sleep wasn’t exactly terrific – two tall people crammed onto a single couch was just plain silly – but he’d gotten decent rest, all things considered. Sleeping in close proximity to the love of your life could do that to a man, he guessed. He shifted a little to try and get himself comfortable enough to maybe fall asleep again, but the feeling of one of Taylor’s feet pressing dangerously close to his dick made him freeze.

_God._

He looked across at her, still fast asleep and sighed a breath of relief. Even in the near darkness, what he could see of her face looked so beautiful and peaceful. He smiled a little to himself.

There was a text on his lockscreen from his sister, and a photo-message from one of his mates who worked at Gucci. He opened Gemma’s iMessage first, laughing a little at the joke she’d made about a pair of shoes they’d been discussing. As he was going through the digital sketches he’d gotten in from Gucci, Gemma had messaged him a link to a video. It opened in the Twitter app and he clicked it.

The blaring sound playing from the Tiktok had reminded him that he’d forgotten to turn down the volume on his phone. Taylor startled immediately, and he watched her panic slightly at not recognizing her surroundings, but as soon as she saw him, the switch in her brain clicked and she looked annoyed at him.

“Jesus, Harry. Thanks for waking me,” she scowled, she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and pulled her arms up above her head, stretching and letting out a cute little yawn. He wanted to lean over and kiss her, but he knew she wasn’t his to kiss anymore.

“I’m sorry,” he chuckled. “You should thank Gemma for the wake-up call, really. ‘s a shame it’s so early,” he drawled, his voice still tired.

“Oh, really?” she unlocked her own iPhone, swiping up and not finding anything worth her time. “We’ll be having words, me and her. She can wake _you_ at 7am, but waking me is crossing a line.”

“All she did was send me a video, jeez,” he smiled and poked her leg with his big toe. “I opened it at full volume.”

“That was a horrible way to wake up!” she giggled and nudged him back, “so screw you for that one, Harry.”

His cheeky “I _so_ wish you would screw me,” was at the tip of his tongue, but he decided against it, considering their already compromising position. They were basically lying on top of each other, and he couldn’t be sure that they didn’t cuddle during the night.

Her “ _I should get going, Harry_ ” after a little while, made him feel like he’d just been shot in the stomach, but he faked a smile and joked that she should go before his neighbors saw her walk of shame. She’d shoved him and got out from under the blanket, shoved her feet into her boots, and stood a little awkwardly, until Harry pulled her into a long hug and murmured, “Don’t be a stranger,” into her neck.

“I’ll keep in touch,” she’d whispered into his ear, and he breathed her in one last time. She pulled away and smiled at him fondly, their eyes meeting, and all her unspoken words hanging in the small space between them. Taylor wondered if maybe one day they'd figure themselves out. Harry felt that maybe they had a shot at a real friendship just then.

_Maybe._


End file.
